The Eyes of Evil
by Dormant
Summary: Wickedness exists somewhere in everyone, even in the best of us. Ask Skipper Jedd; evil is in the eye of the beholder. PG 13 for violence.


The Eyes of Evil

Prologue

Skipper Jedd found himself standing alone in the great hall of the abbey, staring absently into the brilliant stitching of the tapestry before him. He gazed absentmindedly into the fervent eyes of the intrepid mouse depicted upon it. Martin the Warrior; the representation of all that was ever known to be good, the epitome of zealousness, everything that Jedd had come to hate. Clad in his armor, wielding his great sword, he stood there looking down on Jedd. If he could determine any thought running through Martin's mind, it would be that of superiority. A sneer subconsciously graced his features as he looked up at Redwall's idol.

"Is he not everything you wished you were?" a cold voice queried in a menacing yet sarcastic tone. Footsteps could be heard on the cold floor of the great hall as whoever it was came closer; Jedd shuddered.

He whipped around quickly, startled at the sudden acknowledgement. He looked upon the speaker with perplexity. There was something strange about him.

It was an otter, like himself, leaning coolly against the opposite wall, arms crossed arrogantly over his chest. His emerald green eyes flickered condescendingly as his lips formed a haughty smile. As if his persona wasn't strange enough, he was clad in a gray tunic that was smeared with what appeared to be dried blood. That was not like a Redwaller. His gaze was averted when the otter's paw strayed to his belt, where a small dagger was slung carelessly.

His heart sped up as he saw the mysterious otter grip the hilt of the dagger. Wondering what his intentions were, Jedd backed up slowly until his back was against the wall. Panic swept over him as pictures of carnage and savagery formed in his frightened mind. His head seemed to cloud over in a haze of alarm as he reached a point of indecision. To run and hide, or to fight back?

The otter chuckled. "It is _me _that you fear? I am everything you envy. I am what you once were."

Fear faded quickly to confusion as Jedd attempted to comprehend what the otter was trying to say. It just didn't make any sense, yet it made perfect sense. Strangely, the otter _was_ who he used to be. He looked and spoke just as Jedd had. Not believing what he had formulated in his mind, he asked, "Who are you?"

The otter smirked. "I have told you. I am who you once were, and who you still want to be. Is that so hard to understand?" he inquired lightly.

Jedd was speechless.

The otter toyed with the dagger idly as he stared impassively back at Jedd. Moments crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace; tension hung thick in the air. He had no idea of what this eccentric otter wanted of him.

Jedd flinched when the otter tossed the dagger towards him, though not in an offensive way. He was supposed to catch it. His reaction was delayed due to his confusion, and the weapon clattered noisily to the ground. He tentatively bent to pick it up when the otter spoke. "You'll need that."

Before Jedd had time to query, another voice rang out behind him. "You."

Jedd turned to face whoever it was unnervingly, dagger at the ready, taking into consideration what the otter had said. Before him stood a heroic looking mouse, clad in shining armor and wielding that all too familiar sword.

_This can't be..._

Martin had died so long ago; this could only be an illusion. Yet he had spoken and he sounded so real. Nothing seemed to make sense.

"Leave," Martin spat sternly, scowling at Jedd as he spoke.

Jedd's jaw tightened as he could feel his anger begin to bubble over. He clutched the dagger tightly, thinking of how good it would feel to have it rip through Martin's flesh. On an act of pure impulse, Jedd lunged towards the mouse, indifferent to the stories of Martin's sword fighting supremacy.

They fell into a dance of clashing steel, lost in a gray haze of blades. All thoughts were withdrawn from Jedd's mind as he fought unthinkingly, depending on almost involuntary actions. He parried all of Martin's attacks, to his surprise. After what seemed like forever, he felt his dagger plunge through Martin's armor and into his chest. Shock and relief flooded over him as Martin's sword slipped from his dying paw and clattered to the ground.

Martin's eyes glazed over in death as he collapsed to the floor, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. A crimson puddle formed around him as he lie splayed dead across the ground.

Jedd's heart pounded furiously with euphoria and shock. This honorable hero that he had heard so much about had died to his own paw! He looked about for the otter, to exclaim his winnings, but he was gone. Jedd shrugged it off, too blissful to care.

In the midst of his exhilaration, everything before him seemed to dissipate into blackness. The whole scene had disappeared, to his disappointment.

He opened his eyes, finding himself sitting in the great hall once again, across from the tapestry. There was no dead Martin, no strange otter. It was just Jedd and the tapestry. Then it dawned on him; it was only a dream. An illusion. How disappointing; nothing had happened at all. He gritted his teeth, hating the illusion that had made him ever so happy, and in an instant it was gone.

He was startled to find the dagger still in his paw, however. He stared at it blankly, wondering how it had gotten there. If it was only a dream, why was the weapon still there? Either way, he didn't care.

_I'll do the next best thing..._

He looked at the dagger, then to the tapestry and snickered. There was work to be done.

(Kinda a weird Martin dream, huh? Well, more will be explained in the next chapter. The reason for a prologue is to confuse you! Just kidding, but yeah. Next chapter will be more explaining.)


End file.
